Always Let the Soundtrack Be Your Guide
by Rhianwen
Summary: Junior angsts. The background music gets personal. And what does Funky Town have to do with anything?


Always Let the Soundtrack be Your Guide

---------------------------------------------------------

Summary: Junior angsts. Unfortunately, the background music won't cooperate. And what does Funky Town have to do with anything?

---------------------------------------------------------

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone appearing or mentioned in this story, except the ice cream guy. I also don't own any of the songs quoted. I'm sure everyone knows the first two and the last, but The Coffee Song is by Jars of Clay. It's fuuuuuunny.

---------------------------------------------------------

The hour was late – at least nine-thirty, one smallish, grey-haired adolescent reflected with a sort of dark, grim delight at his own rebelliousness – and the small, brightly lit ice cream parlour was deserted, save for the aforementioned self-proclaimed rebellious adolescent. The faint squeak of cloth against vinyl upholstery filled the air as young Junior Makuhari shifted against the bright red booth seat to lean his head against the window and gaze morosely into the torrential downpour in the darkened city streets.

Truly, no one understood his pain, the bitter torment of his very being. And to be fair, he thought with a sad little smile, how could they, when he was the only one who knew anything?

His mother, Yomiko, Michelle and Maggie, Nenene, and even Anita; of course they tried. But the former five had long since forgotten what it was like to drown in ones own despair, a full and painful knowledge of the meaninglessness of life staring you in the face everywhere you went. And Anita…well, she seemed far more interested in ignoring the torment of life, in deluding herself with the false happiness of books and milk and froggies.

There had been a time when he had thought that his former flat-mate, Ms. Wendy (now mysteriously disappeared, along with Mr. Joker – not that either was a particularly big loss) might prove a kindred spirit. That almost perpetually long-suffering expression, as though wracked at every moment with inner conflict and loathing of everything. And of course, all those Tori Amos, Cure, and Garbage CDs he had found while flipping quickly and stealthily through her collection whilst bored one day when the angst of life had been quite fully pontificated and the uncomfortable realization hit him that he needed a hobby, and badly – what else could they mean?

This hope, that his guardian might prove to truly understand that life was a never-ending cycle of misery and darkness, had been quickly shattered by the next selection he had come across: Abba.

Even now, Junior shuddered at the memory.

Nevertheless, despite selectively horrifying taste, hadn't Ms. Wendy once given him a piece of advice that might prove useful in just such a situation as this?

"Junior," she had said thickly, pushing off from the couch cushion onto which Mr. Joker had dropped her unceremoniously when he had trudged in with a barely conscious woman slung over one shoulder. "If you're ever feeling alone, misunderstood, isolated, or…something, just listen to the background music. It will guide you through anything." He had jumped slightly, as she made a sweeping arm gesture, overbalanced, and promptly fell off the couch. "Ouch," she had added, one hand snaking up to visibility above the coffee table.

As his flashback sequence concluded and the sound of the harp faded away, Junior frowned. Maybe it would be best to disregard any words of wisdom Wendy had given him that day. After all, it had only been a few hours before that she had been asking some "uncomfortable questions", which had led Mr. Joker to the conclusion that it was high time for her fifth brain-reformatting. Nothing drastic; just enough to banish any lingering doubts from her pretty little head and solidify her loyalty (as well as adding in an indescribable but overwhelming urge to remove Mr. Joker's trousers).

She had always been a little groggy following the process.

Nevertheless, it could hardly hurt to try. For the sake of Tori and Robert and Shirley.

And so, after ordering a chocolate milkshake to add to the four whose empty glasses testified to his having salved his wounded spirit in the sugar-laden fruits of the ice cream parlour, he listened.

_That's the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh…_

It was like a sign! It was his life, translated into song and sent to guide him. It _was_ the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, he liked it, uh-huh, uh-huh.

After a moment of growing shiny-eyed with the beautiful sensation of being understood at last, Junior frowned.

Hold on; that song had nothing to do with his life! It was _not_ the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, he liked it, uh-huh, uh-huh!

Well, it seemed to be ending now anyway; maybe the next one. After all, for such a classic dramatic moment, he was willing to wait.

The first song faded into a brief silence, and the next started up. Junior waited apprehensively. This sounded awfully…bouncy. But it was best not to judge. Perhaps even a cheerful song could lend guidance. He listened again.

_Won't you take me to Funky Town?_

He pondered these words. Yes, it was just like his life. A commentary on the human condition. All these people, imploring that life should take them to their ultimate destination – Funky Town, apparently – and being cruelly denied and thwarted again and again by the cruelty of the Fates. And he along with them. For a brief moment, Junior felt an overwhelming sense of kinship with his fellow humans, but then frowned again.

No, that one was stupid, too.

After this one. After this song was over, he would find the revelation and guidance he was looking for.

Minutes passed, and finally Funky Town came to an end. Junior waited with bated breath. A soft, faintly melancholy acoustic guitar line filled the room. This was it. This group, whoever they were, would understand his pain.

He listened, his features fixed in an expression of supreme hope and joy: a tiny smile and head slightly inclined.

_Oo-oo-ooh, good coffee, strong coffee; I need to have some…_

He sighed, resting his elbows on the table and absently stirring his milkshake with his straw. This song had no relevance to the torture and torment of his life, either. Perhaps, if he had been born Nenene, the song might mean more to him. But the idea of being Nenene, frankly, just didn't bear thinking about.

Once more. He would wait out one more song in the hopes of finding what he was looking for.

Eventually, the soft acoustic call for caffeine ended. Junior waited, by now more tense with annoyance than expectation. He jumped slightly at the bellow that issued forth from the radio on the counter:

_Who let the dogs out!_

Alright, now they were just making fun of him. As he listened to the burning question repeat (loudly) again and again, something snapped in Junior's mind.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Hey," Anita greeted the kindly old man behind the counter of the ice cream parlour as she folded up her umbrella and shook the excess rain off her bright yellow raincoat.

"Oh, hello there, Anita," the old man returned warmly. All three of those girls who called themselves sisters were nice – always so polite – but he had a special soft spot for the energetic little pink-haired snippet.

"Have you seen Junior?" she asked, hopping up onto one of the barstools and glancing about the shop.

The old man frowned.

"Actually, he was here earlier. Seemed a little depressed."

"That's Junior," Anita shrugged with a fond smile.

"He drank milkshakes for about an hour and a half," the old man continued, scratching the back of his head worriedly. "Didn't make a peep; just sat there, watching the rain. Then, out of nowhere, he stood up really fast – no small feat when you're sitting in a booth! – slammed his hand down on the table, and shouted, 'is a little Evanescence too much to ask!' I have no idea what he meant," he concluded sadly, before looking slightly annoyed. "I wish he had paid for all his milkshakes before storming out like that, though."

"Geez," Anita grumbled, fishing through her pockets for some spare cash to settle her friend's milkshake bill. "He's been like this ever since he turned fourteen."

---------------------------------------------------------------

End Notes: Welp! I think I owe Junior a big apology for this story. I couldn't help it! I was inspired when someone on a forum observed that whenever someone's in a bar, being depressed, the song in the background is always about EXACTLY what's bothering them. I wanted to play with...a skewed version. :)

And I know that Junior isn't really always angsting about nothing, but he makes a cute emo-kid in my mind. :)


End file.
